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Charlotte Amalie
Thursday, May 19, 2022
HomeNewsArchivesKWANZAA: TIME TO LOOK BACK BUT MOVE FORWARD

KWANZAA: TIME TO LOOK BACK BUT MOVE FORWARD

A ripple in the pond of eternity can forever change the undertow created by all the deeds done to those who have been exploited. Deep down in your sleeping consciousness you do not really believe that we went quietly into the night when we were stolen from our homes, separated from our families and forced into what you thought would be mindless servitude.
It seems an eon since I have seen the shores of my home, the Land of the Blacks. It was there the Earth Mother incubated and gave humans life. Her heart never stops bleeding for the loss of her chosen children's children. Ragged cries of sorrow echo across the savannahs, mountain tops and deserts for each stolen child. And who shall cry for those who lie at the bottom of the Atlantic and the many more who were murdered for their resistance to bondage?
Persecution and torture were imposed on my ancestors because they represented the greatness you had not yet achieved. In your eyes they were only good enough to plough your fields, suckle your future generations and carry your seeds of subjugation throughout time. But regardless of the insufferable brutality carried out on our bodies and minds, we are still here.
Out of Africa we came dusty, unclean, saddened but not broken. Shackled foot to foot — Run … Walk – and neck to neck by the millions – Hurry up … No talking. Slap! – The whip ricochets across my sister's back and there is a tense undercurrent of angry silence from those in chains.
Trails to floating prisons left by shuffling feet, we blindly followed. Death could not come swift enough to those who wished to give up their spirit. They begged, "Please release us to those no longer in our world." Stacked like logs one on the other, only the sea to claim the physical body, there was no other escape. Bottomless pits could not drown the sound of human suffering. Across the endless sea we were taken. So far away from home.
Who calls for restitution! No amount of money or apologies can erase the blood trial from the old world to the new. It cannot recall the of generations of my family who came before me, nor can it restore me to my homeland. Yet, changing the indoctrination of a nation intimidated by people of color can pave the way for those yet unborn.
We all represent the Image of "The Most High" and inasmuch as we cannot control where we are born or the color of our skin, is it too much to ask that we treat each other with love and respect? Be slow to fill your minds and hearts with anger against those who attempt to imprison you mentally and physically. Forgiveness is harder than anger, but at its height absolution makes us stronger.
A gentle awakening tugs at the consciousness of souls stolen from the heart of Africa. As forgiving as we have been in the past, our brothers and sisters continue to be killed in the streets that our ancestors built. Do you really want to feel the wrath accumulated over these many years? Or will you stop erasing us from your conscious memories?
Today, each one of us must make an overwhelming effort to change our way of thinking about those we have not met, but immediately judge. We must learn from the past so that our future represents all humankind. Who will commit themselves to a revolution of awareness and tolerance?
Education is the only way to teach future generations about bestowing kindness on other living beings. For it is to our benefit that we, Africans in the New World, have survived the horrors inflicted on our ancestors. They did not suffer and die so that we could throw our greatness away. One Love.

Editor's note: Caroline A. Browne, a St. Thomas resident, says her writing is based on many of her life experiences as an African-Caribbean woman.
We welcome and encourage readers to keep the dialogue going by responding to Source commentary. Letters should be e-mailed with name and place of residence to source@viaccess.net.

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A ripple in the pond of eternity can forever change the undertow created by all the deeds done to those who have been exploited. Deep down in your sleeping consciousness you do not really believe that we went quietly into the night when we were stolen from our homes, separated from our families and forced into what you thought would be mindless servitude.
It seems an eon since I have seen the shores of my home, the Land of the Blacks. It was there the Earth Mother incubated and gave humans life. Her heart never stops bleeding for the loss of her chosen children's children. Ragged cries of sorrow echo across the savannahs, mountain tops and deserts for each stolen child. And who shall cry for those who lie at the bottom of the Atlantic and the many more who were murdered for their resistance to bondage?
Persecution and torture were imposed on my ancestors because they represented the greatness you had not yet achieved. In your eyes they were only good enough to plough your fields, suckle your future generations and carry your seeds of subjugation throughout time. But regardless of the insufferable brutality carried out on our bodies and minds, we are still here.
Out of Africa we came dusty, unclean, saddened but not broken. Shackled foot to foot -- Run ... Walk – and neck to neck by the millions – Hurry up ... No talking. Slap! – The whip ricochets across my sister's back and there is a tense undercurrent of angry silence from those in chains.
Trails to floating prisons left by shuffling feet, we blindly followed. Death could not come swift enough to those who wished to give up their spirit. They begged, "Please release us to those no longer in our world." Stacked like logs one on the other, only the sea to claim the physical body, there was no other escape. Bottomless pits could not drown the sound of human suffering. Across the endless sea we were taken. So far away from home.
Who calls for restitution! No amount of money or apologies can erase the blood trial from the old world to the new. It cannot recall the of generations of my family who came before me, nor can it restore me to my homeland. Yet, changing the indoctrination of a nation intimidated by people of color can pave the way for those yet unborn.
We all represent the Image of "The Most High" and inasmuch as we cannot control where we are born or the color of our skin, is it too much to ask that we treat each other with love and respect? Be slow to fill your minds and hearts with anger against those who attempt to imprison you mentally and physically. Forgiveness is harder than anger, but at its height absolution makes us stronger.
A gentle awakening tugs at the consciousness of souls stolen from the heart of Africa. As forgiving as we have been in the past, our brothers and sisters continue to be killed in the streets that our ancestors built. Do you really want to feel the wrath accumulated over these many years? Or will you stop erasing us from your conscious memories?
Today, each one of us must make an overwhelming effort to change our way of thinking about those we have not met, but immediately judge. We must learn from the past so that our future represents all humankind. Who will commit themselves to a revolution of awareness and tolerance?
Education is the only way to teach future generations about bestowing kindness on other living beings. For it is to our benefit that we, Africans in the New World, have survived the horrors inflicted on our ancestors. They did not suffer and die so that we could throw our greatness away. One Love.

Editor's note: Caroline A. Browne, a St. Thomas resident, says her writing is based on many of her life experiences as an African-Caribbean woman.
We welcome and encourage readers to keep the dialogue going by responding to Source commentary. Letters should be e-mailed with name and place of residence to source@viaccess.net.